It’s here! The first film based on one of my 100-word stories: #YouToo. Here’s the film and the original story.
I’m a little behind the curve for this new decade already. A couple days in I caught the nastiest cold I’ve had in a while. (Maybe the flu? We’ll say it’s a cold…but it kicked my ass.) Today is the first day I’ve felt like a human being again.
So, ten days into the new year and new decade, I’m here to declare my goals for the next year.
1. The Year of the 100. (Actually two goals.)
1a. I’m aiming for 100 Rejections. I actually started this back in December and I’m up to four.
1b. Also aiming to read 100 Books. I’m up to five, so I’m doing okay so far.
2. Write and produce one full length play.
3. Write the rough drafts of three novels.
4. Co-produce 20ish short films based on my 365 Project with Fantomvagn Films.
5. Write six short stories.
*A note about my goal-setting style which I’m embracing this year. I have always, always been more successful when I set ridiculous Big Hairy Ass Goals (BHAGs). Whenever I set goals that are “reasonable” I am always, always worse off. For example, the last time I set my reading goal at 100 books, I missed and ‘only’ read 70ish books. The year I set it for 20 books, I read 12.
Happy National Novel Writing Month, writerly people. I wasn’t going to participate this year, having been thwarted the past couple years.
However, I recently participated in a great workshop put on by mystery novelist Becky Clark for Pikes Peak Writers: “How to Write Your Novel in 8 Weeks.” And, while I’m still sorting out a lot of the tools she provided in the workshop (lots of time management advice, which I’m putting into practice), it occurred to me that a great time to put these tools into action would be when every other writer and their brother is trying to accomplish the same goal: write 50K in a month.
Because then not only would I be putting into practice her detailed advice, but I would also have a community to complain — I mean, um — partner with.
If you need a writing buddy, you can “at me” @JennyStolen on the NaNo website.
Cassius: Did Cicero say anything?
Casca: Ay, she spoke Greek.
Cassius: To what effect?
Casca: Nay, an I tell you that, I’ll ne’er look you i’th’face again. But those that understood her smiled at one another, and shook their heads. But for mine own part, it was Greek to me.William Shakespeare: Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene 2
Greek to me.
After three months of working, I’ve finished the draft of the gender-reversed adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar that I’ll be directing throughout October and November. (We open in December! If you’re in Colorado Springs, you need to come see this!)
And let me tell you this about adapting the Bard-His-Own-Self…
It’s intimidating. For a couple reasons.
First, the reputation: I mean, here’s a guy who has dominated the world stage, hundreds of thousands of English lessons, and is quoted daily. You probably said something he wrote at some point today — maybe you realized you quoted him, maybe you didn’t, but I would bet any amount of money in your pocket that there was something.
Second, the language itself: Say what you will about Shakespeare. The boy could write. There’s rhythm and vocabulary and plot structure. It’s kinda like fluent Greek and then me: speaking elementary Greek. Reading the Dr. Seuss of Greek, not the — um — Shakespeare of Greek.
So what kind of cocky, arrogant, ignorant ignoramus jumps into one of Shakespeare’s best known, most performed plays, and then just…”adapts it?”
*Raises hand slowly*
That’s me. I did it.
And not only did I swap the genders around (more on that in a later post). The Bard probably wouldn’t recognize Act V much (more on that in a later post). He’d wonder why so many conspirators were alive (and then die later). He would probably be curious about the dancing…but, then, he’s a theatre guy, so he’d probably roll with the dancing. Maybe he’d be irritated at how I reconfigured the Soothsayer.
I admit. I was hesitant at first. Mostly, I said to myself, “Self, we’re just going to swap the genders, keep as much of the meter as we can while we do that, and then make some judicious cuts. That’s all, Self.”
As I dug deeper into the text though, I kept thinking: “Self, it’d be cooler if this happened, then there can be a visual representation of XYZ. And if we move this character here, it solidifies ABC.”
So I made the changes. Then myself was like: “SELF! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
“WHAT WOULD SHAKESPEARE DO?!”
(Which is kind of dumb question to ask yourself, because we know what Shakespeare would do. He did it. I was in the midst of fucking it up as I asked myself that very question.)
Ironically enough, it was thinking about “What would Shakespeare do?” that gave me the creative freedom to cut and rearrange and reassemble.
Because Shakespeare fucking stole everything, rearranged it, reassembled, and cut and pasted. If Shakespeare were right beside me in the office chair, he would have done the same damn thing. Probably with more blood. He was an “upstart crow, beautified with our feathers.” (“Our” being other playwrights of the time period — meaning he stole their shit.)
Over the next couple weeks, I will explain my actions. In the meantime, I say that we all take a deep breath…and think about what else we can steal.